The Book
by Lion warrior
Summary: Po had a little book that he kept out of sight from the others, especially the Furious Five. However, everything in the dark usually always comes to the light.


The Book

 **Don't Own KFP**

* * *

No one knew about the book until it was accidentally in the open. Po had kept an old tattered book with him. No one saw it until Zeng was cleaning his room one day. The duck servant found the book hidden among his forlorn empty rice bowls. It was inside a little chest on the floor, and it just happened to be open. He laid the chest in front of Po's bed and laid the book on top of it. The mistake that Zeng made, along with leaving the book in the open and chest unlocked, was he left the door open. The first person to find the book was innocent Viper. She noticed the book on the bed and wondered why it was there. The Furious Five have never seen Po reading, other than Kung Fu posters or the scrolls. And this one looked like he had it for a while. Why would he have it? "Just a peek," She said to herself. She slithered inside the panda's room. She grabbed the book with her tail and opened it. She recognized Po's difficult to read handwriting, confirming that this was written by him. The odd thing about it was these weren't writings of his personal life as Viper feared. She didn't want to be reading Po's private thoughts. What she did find out was that it was a journal of poetry. Some of the poems were corny and others funny.

 _There they are, spoiling all known fun  
_ _What amusement is there when they arrive?  
_ _Ruining picnics, disgracing washed armor  
_ _Making a lot of noise: drip, drop, drip._

 _The wet little devils coming from dark clouds on high.  
_ _Small though they are, they are a huge disaster.  
_ _Though we hide in our homes, they mess our great days  
_ _The rain has come and the rain drops reign._

It was funny how he made rain drops seem like the ultimate enemy. Viper chuckled a bit. Other poems in the book were strange and provoked thought. It made seem like Po didn't write it, but that was Po's mannerism; it couldn't be mistaken.

 _What? Are you deaf, blind, or mute?  
_ _Can your tongue not find kind words?  
Can your eyes not see truly beautiful things?  
Can your ears not hear kind offers?_

 _The heart is a beating fragile soul  
If it is broken, it is too delicate to mend.  
A loving heart can only heal a broken one  
Can you not have love in your heart?_

Even though Po seemed to be writing to no one in particular, it seemed like he was speaking directly to her. That was strange. Po never really accuses someone. Blame someone for something he did, sure. But he would never accuse them. Then there were ones that seemed very dark.

 _These creatures stand side by side_  
 _Not flinching nor moving unless commanded._  
 _Old minds discarded for a strict order._  
 _Trained like fighting hounds._

 _Given weapon in hand, new instincts arise.  
Once clumsy sloths are now disciplined wolves.  
Snap into position, an automatic process.  
Yet, are they ready for Death's playing field?_

 _Valiant soldiers are these creatures  
But honor is not a shield to deflect darting arrows.  
Shooting their anger at an unknown enemy.  
Do they fight because of mere instruction?_

 _They fight for no glory nor honor  
But survive for the glimpse of free life.  
Cries of victories don't engulf the air  
But tears of loss wet the ground_

 _Oh, how the mighty have fallen!  
For the ground wasn't created to drink this red ink.  
It wasn't made for this poisonous gas.  
It wasn't made for this many bones._

 _They look on towards the light  
But their eyes will never see again.  
Nor their limbs stand and march.  
Their faces wetted by the weeping water of the living dead._

 _But this living dead hear a trumpet.  
The plague is over. The war is done.  
The conquered are forced out of their holes.  
And the joyous relief fills the air._

 _Though the ground is replaced with bodies,  
The living dead are now alive.  
The journey home is a blur to the remnant  
And tears of joy now frees the victims of war._

It sounded as if Po had been through a war. The Furious Five have had their many battles, but none of them had ever been through a war. Po seemed to be writing from experience. The more Viper read, the more she questioned her understanding of Po. But there was one poem that she could plainly understand. It was entitled _Loving the Rose's Thorns_.

 _Why, dear rose, do you defend yourself so?_  
 _Your defense is riddled with thorns._  
 _Or are these memoirs of the pains of your young life?_  
 _Are you terrified of letting go?_

 _You stick me. You pain me. You tear at me with your thorns._  
 _The more I touch, the more you hurt me._  
 _Sometimes you do it intentionally._  
 _Yet I still love you, my rose._

 _Like the lovely lady, that haunts my dream_  
 _You are similar to her in many ways._  
 _From the top of your silk petals  
To the roots of your small base._

 _Like you rose, her eyes are a deep orange that sparkles in the twilight.  
Her figure is pleasing to the eyes of my heart  
Her figure is strong, caring, protective, and pure of heart.  
And the outward figure is enticing and seductive._

 _Oh, how my passion is stirred when she is near me.  
Oh, how my heart is troubled when she is sad.  
Oh, how her personality keeps me in love with her.  
And oh how her increasing beauty leads me to faint._

 _Yet like you, oh pretty flower, she has thorns.  
The pains of her past cause her to prick at my hands  
Like your thorns, she tears at me.  
Yet like you, I love her._

 _I love her for her thorns.  
I would not change that which is of her.  
I could not change that which is her.  
For it is her thorns, my rose, that I have come to love._

That was something else. Viper was taken over by the amount of romantic words Po had written. Then something dawned on her. She knew who it was. She slithered outside with the book wrapped around her tail. It wasn't until she got to the kitchen that she found some of her comrades. "Hey guys, where's Po?"

"He won't be here until a little... Hey! What's that," Monkey asked.

"It's something private from Po," Viper replied, holding the book tighter. Mantis quickly took it from her. "Mantis! That's Po's private book!"

"That makes it all the more interesting," Mantis said, giving the book to Monkey. They quickly read some of it. It was at that time that Po walked in.

"Hey guys, what are you reading," Po asked.

"Just Po's poetry book," Monkey said, not realizing it was Po he was talking to.

"WHAT!" Po squeaked. "Give it back!" Monkey threw the book over to Crane who ran out the door with it. The whole team chased after Crane. They ran all the way to the Hall of Heroes where Crane threw it to Mantis.

"Come on guys! Give it back," Po whined.

"Really guys," Viper replied. "Give it back to Po before anyone else sees it."

"Oh, you mean Tigress," Mantis said cheekily. Po's eyes bugged out.

"Shush! She might hear you," Po said, diving to get it away from Mantis. Mantis threw it to Crane. Crane, however, tripped over Viper's tail. Po ran after it.

"I got it! I got it," Po shouted as it flew through the air. He almost got it, but he crashed into something, rather someone.

"Ooohhh," Monkey said worriedly.

"Oh dear," Viper whispered frightened. As Po looked up, he saw who he ran into. Tigress. She wasn't exactly the happiest to be tackled by an oversized bear.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Tigress. I was... you see they," Po looked back to see Viper, Crane, Mantis, and Monkey gone without a trace. The wind whistled where they use to be. Po quickly got off of Tigress. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine. But you should really watch where you're going," Tigress replied.

"Right-o," Po smiled sheepishly. Tigress spied the book and picked it up. "Uh! You don't want to read that," Po said, trying to get it from Tigress. Po was stopped by Tigress's death glare. "Take all the time you need." Tigress looked through the book. As she walked around, Po stood constant watch over her.

"Who wrote these," Tigress asked, not recognizing it as Po's handwriting.

"Um... just a... friend of mine," Po said, managing to steal the journal from her. "Well see you later." And he was about to dash out, but Tigress held him in place.

"You wrote it, didn't you," Tigress asked.

"Wha! No, you honestly think I can make such poetry like that? About war and rain and storms."

"How do you know it was about that," Tigress smirked.

"I... dang it!" Tigress chuckled a bit at his reaction.

"You have a very interesting way of writing," Tigress approved. This made Po a little leery.

"You mean... you're okay with it?"

"Yes, why," Tigress asked with her eyebrow raised.

"Nothing, nothing," Po quickly recovered as he headed out the hall. He rushed back to the kitchen where he saw the others. "I'm watching you guys," He said pointing from his eyes to theirs. He went into his room and before he could close the chest,

"Why do you keep it under so much protection?"

"AHAHAH!" Po screamed. "I I I do that because some of the poems are... personal."

"Did you read _Loving the Rose's thorns_?" Viper asked slithering into the room. Po looked at her with a defeated face.

"No, she didn't," Po sighed.

"Oops! Sorry Po," She said slithering away. Po gave the book back to Tigress.

"Why are you giving it back," Tigress asked.

"Because you're curious about that poem," Po simply stated.

"I am not," Tigress protested, not wanting to be so predictable. Po looked at her with an unbelieving stare. "Okay, a little bit." She immediately opened the book up and flipped through the pages. She noticed that Po was getting some pillows and padded sheets. "What are you doing?"

"Preparing for when you read it," Po groaned. Tigress's eyes grew wider and wider when she read it. When she was finished, Tigress gently gave it back to Po with a sad look on her face.

"Is it talking about me," Tigress asked. Po nodded, hiding behind a pillow as a shield. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you. I know you didn't mean what you wrote."

"But I did," Po said before thinking. "I mean... I've always... kind of... sort of... perhaps..."

"Liked me," Tigress finished. Tigress was still downcasted about it. "Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"Why would you like someone who is rough and hardcore as me? Someone who has always been tough on you?"

"Didn't you read the poem," Po asked. "I've come to love those things about you. Yes, it's tough sometimes to understand why you're that way but I've learned to accept it. You're a really great person, Tigress," Po smiled. Tigress smiled back.

"Why don't I help you with some of your poems," Tigress offered. Po lit up.

"Really! I mean if you're okay with it," Po said. Tigress nodded.

The rest of the Furious Five would often wonder why Tigress was spending long evenings with Po. Of course, her sharp growls never left for much discussion. She did help Po with his poetry and she did learn a lot from Po as well. "I didn't know you were this poetic, Po," Tigress commented.

"Well, I guess that's just me. Always full of surprises," Po chuckled sheepishly. Po sat still when he felt Tigress's head lean on his shoulder. "What are you doing?" Tigress smirked.

"You're not the only one with surprises," she said purring next to him. So they became, as Po said, poet mates.

 **The End**


End file.
